The Tie That Binds
by The Lark
Summary: Raoul and Erik accidentally get handcuffed together. Will they learn to get along, or just gnaw their arms off?
1. Chapter 1

The Tie That Binds

By The Lark

Disclaimer: I don't own Phantom of the Opera. I'm just temporarily stealing its characters for my own twisted purposes.

Christine Daae blinked her eyes groggily as the chloroform wore off, and she awoke to find herself slung over the shoulder of the Phantom of the Opera. "Not again, Erik!"

"Christine! You're awake already?" Erik hopped out of the boat, which had just pulled up to his home beneath the opera house, and sat her on her feet. "Stupid chloroform! I knew I shouldn't have switched brands at a time like this."

She sighed wearily. "Erik, I don't have time to be kidnapped again right now. Raoul and I are getting married on Monday, and I still haven't finished booking the hall, ordering the flowers, or picking a little plastic bride and groom for the top of the cake. Not to mention the fact that I can't get anything done because I'm being pestered every five seconds by some idiot reporter trying to offer me a book deal about my whole ordeal with you. And Raoul doesn't help matters any. He keeps trying to talk me into having a military wedding. Oh, he tries to pretend it's because he's devoted to the Navy, but I know he's really just trying to get out of wearing the tux I picked out for him."

"You see, this is why you should have married me. I was planning on eloping."

"Not this again…"

Erik held up his hands in a placating gesture. "Just promise you'll hear me out for a minute, and if you still want to after you listen to what I have to say, you can leave."

Christine grudgingly nodded her head. "All right."

Smiling nervously, Erik reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, rolled up and tied with a black ribbon. "I've spent the past three weeks putting together a list of reasons why you should leave the boy and marry me instead."

She groaned miserably. "Erik…"

"You promised!" He untied the ribbon and unrolled the list. It was at least twenty feet long.

"If I stay here long enough to listen to all that, I'll miss my wedding!"

"That's the idea." He smirked triumphantly. "Now, let's see…" He skimmed to the top of his list. "Reason number one, I'm a mechanical genius, so I'd be really good at fixing stuff around the house. Number two, I've already got a ring and a dress. Number three, you think I'm hot--"

"Hey!"

"Don't try to deny it! We all saw you during 'Point of No Return'! Number four, I look really really cool when I swirl my cape around." He twirled with a flourish to demonstrate. "Number five--"

But he was interrupted as Raoul de Chagny rode up behind him on a white horse and smacked him with a glove. "Hands off the lady, bucko, or I'll shove you in your own giant oven!"

Erik glared daggers at the vicomte. "Not you again! And how did you get that horse across the lake? Just back off, kid, Christine promised me she'd listen to what I had to say before she left."

"I heard the whole thing!" Raoul dismounted, storming toward the Phantom, looking as angry and full of loathing as his innocent-blond-choirboy good looks allowed. "I heard you trying to poison her with that awful list of yours. So I've started a list of my own reasons for why Christine should stay with me!" He pulled a notebook out of his pocket. "Number one, I happen to be emotionally stable. Number two, I look cute in a uniform…"

Erik, not to be outdone, resumed reading his own list rather loudly. "Number five, I have great hair…"

"Number three, you know what my last name is…"

Christine looked apologetically at Erik. "He makes a strong point there. If I marry you, for all I know, I could be becoming Madame Christine Henzerdorffer."

Desperate to regain the lead, Erik began to rattle his list off at light speed. "Number six, all women love a bad boy! Number seven, my deformity isn't all that bad, at least in the new film…"

"Number four, I keep risking my life to save you from stalker-boy over here…"

"Number eight, I can say 'yes dear' in thirty different languages…"

"Number five, I'll give you a cookie!"

Christine placed herself between the phantom and the vicomte, throwing up her hands in frustration. "Boys, boys, boys. We've been over this before. Erik, I love you as a friend and all, but I just don't want to marry you, and all the kidnappings in the world aren't going to change my mind."

"Oh." Erik's head drooped gloomily for a moment, until suddenly his eyes lit up again. "Would it change your mind if I gave up golf?" He gestured toward the astro-turfed golf course he'd built on the far side of the lake.

"That's it! I'm through trying to be patient!" Raoul whipped out a set of handcuffs and cuffed the Phantom's Punjab-ing hand securely to his own. "You're not getting away this time. I'm taking you to the cops. Your days of kidnapping my future wife and trying to brainwash her are through for good!" He patted Christine's hand comfortingly.

"Ha!" snorted Erik. You don't really think you can capture someone of my skill with some stupid party favor, do you?" Erik pulled one of his many lock picks out of his pocket and jammed it into the lock. To his surprise, however, it refused to budge. He wiggled the pin frantically. "What the--? What's wrong with these things?"

Christine was amazed. In his efforts to impress her, Erik had magicked his way out of locked chests six feet underground, weighted shackles at the bottom of the lake, and one time, he'd even managed to remove an ice cube stuck to his tongue. "Wow, Raoul, where did you find those cuffs?"

Raoul smiled broadly. "Bought them off a Persian trader. Apparently, they were commissioned by the khanum herself, custom-designed specifically for her to use on some magical escape-artist ex-boyfriend of hers."

When he heard that, Erik shouted some words that made Raoul clamp his hands protectively over Christine's ears.

Finally, Christine wriggled her way free. "I've had enough of you two and your incessant quarreling! Honestly, my dear teacher and my beloved fiancé, the two most important men in my life, constantly threatening to kill each other like a couple of armed and dangerous children! Well, it's going to stop this right this minute, do you hear me? Raoul, unlock those cuffs and apologize for trying to have Erik arrested."

"Very well." A disgruntled Raoul rummaged around in his pockets for the key.

Erik smirked smugly. "Heh heh. Take that, pretty boy."

"And Erik," Christine continued, "you will accept Raoul's apology and promise to stop interfering in our relationship."

"Yes, dear," Erik responded mechanically.

"Man," Raoul whispered into his ear, "we are _so_ whipped."

"Just hurry up with that key. And move over! You're standing on my foot!" Erik snapped.

"You know, I could make a few complaints of my own. What did you do, take a bath in cologne?" Raoul had given up on his pockets and sat down to remove his shoes. Alas, the key wasn't in there either. "Uh-oh…"

"Uh oh?" Erik seized the vicomte by the throat and shook him violently. "_Uh-oh_? Oh, I'll give you 'uh-oh', kid! " He shifted his thumbs slightly, and Raoul's face turned a strange purplish-blue color.

The vicomte didn't bother trying to wrestle his way free. Instead, he pushed the Phantom's cloak aside and began to tickle his ribs. Erik immediately released him and slid helplessly to the floor, alternately laughing and glaring.

Christine grabbed each of the men by one ear and yanked hard. "Stop it this instant! This isn't a big deal. We'll just go down to the locksmith's and get this taken care of."

"But it's ten o'clock on a Friday night. We won't be able to find a locksmith open until Monday morning!" Raoul protested.

"Just in time for the wedding. That works out perfectly. And maybe after a weekend of being trapped in handcuffs together, you'll discover a way to be more patient with each other." Christine couldn't hide her lack of sympathy. These two idiots had fought over her like a piece of meat for the last time.

"NO!" screamed Erik and Raoul in unison.

"Well, I'd love to stay and chat," Christine continued, hopping into the boat and paddling toward the nearest exit, "but I've got a wedding to plan. See you Monday, boys!"

"No!" Erik groaned, trying in desperation to pound through the chain with a heavy rock. When that failed, he picked up a stick of driftwood and tapped the lock frantically. "Alohomora!"

Raoul buried his face in his free hand miserably. "This can't be happening."

TBC…


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Erik angrily stormed into his house and slammed the door behind him, dragging Raoul along with him. Unfortunately, the young vicomte wasn't blessed with Erik's superhuman night vision. He tripped over an inconveniently placed cat, stumbled and fell, taking the Phantom down with him.

They toppled to the floor, landing in a heap right on top of Ayesha, who squirmed her way free and sprang across the room in sheer terror. In her panic, she knocked over a small table, sending the lamp on top of it crashing down on Erik's head. He dizzily collapsed onto Raoul, who grunted in frustration and pushed the phantom aside. "Get off me, before the slash authors see us! Ow! You know, for someone who's inhumanly thin, you're awfully heavy."

Erik, slowly regaining consciousness, shook his head to clear it. "Whew. That reminds me, steer clear of Ayesha as long as you're here. She really hates you."

"Hey!"

"Don't take it personally. She hates everything but me and catnip." He massaged his temples gingerly. "My head is killing me. I'm going to bed." He started down the hall, but was anchored in place by the vicomte. Erik glared down at the chain, as though hoping he could somehow burn through if he glowered hard enough.

Raoul wriggled his hand wildly, trying with all his might to work his way free. "It's no use!" he groaned. "I can't believe this. Routed by a simple pair of handcuffs--you call yourself a Phantom?"

"It's not my fault! It's the khanum's. She probably knew something like this would happen when she designed these." His eyes took on a hunted look. "It's all part of her plan! She's still out to get me! And don't try and tell me she's probably dead by now! People like that have ways of getting around such things. She's probably trying to get my guard down so she can strike! I'll wager she's watching me right now, waiting for you to drive me insane!" He began to pull pictures off the wall and rip open the couch cushions, looking for hidden cameras and listening devices.

Raoul quirked an eyebrow. "No offense, but I really don't think you need my help."

"She had problems! Scary, _scary_ problems!"

The vicomte's eyes widened. "Oh, don't tell me you're the magical escape artist boyfriend the salesman told me about?"

Erik stiffened defensively. "What? I may be a disfigured nutcase who's spent the past couple of decades locked in a basement, but I'm still entitled to a love life, okay? Women find me very attractive!" He stamped his foot petulantly.

"Yeah, yeah, we all saw Christine during 'Point of No Return'. So if you could have any woman you wanted, why do you have to keep kidnapping my fiancée?" Raoul asked curiously.

Erik made a dismissive gesture with his hand. "I don't really go for that whole dating scene. All that awkwardness and boredom, not to mention all the money you have to blow. Kidnappings are much less trouble."

"I hear that. Heck, Christine and I knew each other for twelve years before I finally dredged up the strength to ask her out. It's a nightmare." Raoul shoved some of the stuffing back into one of the couch cushions, crammed it back into the couch, and took a seat. "The trick is, when you're asking a girl out, just think of a funny limerick. It'll put a smile on your face, and she'll think you're really cute and confident."

"What the…oh, why not?" The phantom shrugged, pulled out a little notebook, and wrote the tip down for future use. "Got any other tricks?"

"Nope."

Erik rolled his eyes. "Might have known," he grunted.

"Hey, I've spent my entire life locked up in an all-boys military school. What do you expect?" the vicomte pointed out.

"Whatever. Now come into the music room with me. I'm working on a new opera, and I'm not going to start neglecting my music because of a minor setback like being shackled to my archenemy." Erik yanked on the chain, pulling Raoul into the music room and sitting down on the organ bench.

"Another opera? What's this one called?" The vicomte leaned against the side of the organ, rifling through some of the sheet music scattered across it.

Erik smiled proudly. "It's a sequel to Don Juan Triumphant. I started it right after Christine dumped me. I call it Don Juan Unsuccessful."

"Uh…huh. So, what's it about?" Raoul asked suspiciously.

Erik enthusiastically launched into a synopsis. "Well, it starts out with Aminta dumping Don Juan for a vizconde named Raul and leaving him to rot in a basement under some theater. So then, Don Juan goes all crazy and kidnaps her, then makes her listen to a list of reasons for why she should leave Raul and come back to him. That's all I've got so far."

Raoul fidgeted awkwardly for a moment, trying to decide whether or not he should say something. However, his horror at the prospect of spending the weekend listening to Erik's "Don Mary-Sue" opera finally won. "Er, I hate to say this, but doesn't that sound similar to the love-life of a certain someone we both know?"

Erik frowned. "Well, I know Monsieur Firmin has had his share of women troubles, but…"

"This is going to be a _long_ weekend," sighed Raoul. "And not in a good way, like Labor Day."

__

TBC…


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Erik, with his busy schedule of composing opera, playing with his cat, and making scary faces at the ballet rats, had little time for minor distractions like bedtime. Raoul, on the other hand, wasn't used to functioning without sleep, food, water, oxygen, or television the way his rival was. Around two o'clock in the morning, he fell asleep, slumped on the organ bench. Normally, Erik would have just ignored this and kept playing, but the vicomte had passed out face-down on the low end of the keyboard, and the instrument was making some really horrible sounds.

Irritably hopping to his feet, the phantom yanked forcefully on the handcuff chain. "Get up, boy, we're going to bed. And if you make even _one_ damn joke about what that sounds like, so help me God, I'm going to invent a horrible new way to strangle you with one hand."

Raoul was too groggy to question anything. He allowed himself to be towed to Erik's bedroom, but went wide awake as he took in the black funerary decorative theme. "Are you kidding me? I can't sleep in your coffin over there!"

Erik whacked him in the back of the head. "Oh, grow up. It's just a wooden box, nothing more, nothing less."

"I'm not afraid, you fool." Raoul rolled his eyes. "I slept in plenty of coffins during my hazing in military school."

Erik gave him a double-take.

"Don't ask," the vicomte muttered. "I simply meant that that thing isn't nearly big enough both of us to sleep in."

"Nonsense. There's plenty of room leftover when I sleep in it."

"In case you've forgotten, you're an anorexic who's constantly being mistaken for a reanimated skeleton. You could probably sleep in a shoebox and have room leftover."

"Just shut up and get in the coffin." Erik shoved Raoul into the coffin and climbed in beside him. Or tried to, at least. He landed squarely on top of the vicomte, and with no room on either side, he had nowhere to recoil to. He glared viciously into Raoul's face, which was inches from his own. "If I see you laugh _once…_"

"Don't worry, you won't." Raoul put a hand over Erik's eyes and laughed himself silly. After a few minutes, he got himself under control, plastered a grimly serious expression to his face, and took away his hand.

Erik crawled out of his coffin, angrily grumbling unintelligible words under his breath. "It looks like we're sleeping in Christine's bed tonight."

They clambered out of the coffin, stumbling and hitting their heads a couple of times, earning them a disdainful look from Ayesha, who was _trying _to gnaw on her catnip mouse in peace.

When Raoul pushed open the door to Christine's bedroom, his jaw dropped. The whole placed was full of scented candles…well, even more than usual…and a stereo in the corner was playing a mix tape of corny romantic music. Red rose petals had been strewn across the velvet-draped bed.

The unmasked half of Erik's face was beet red. "I like to be prepared for anything when I kidnap a lady, okay?" His voice turned bitter. "I probably would have been able to put this stuff to good use, too, if _certain parties _hadn't interrupted Christine and I before I could finish reading my list."

Raoul gave his enemy an evil look. "Would not. She loves _me_."

"She's got a funny way of showing it, leaving you alone with a guy who would just as soon kill you as look at you."

"Meh. To tell you the truth, I'm kind of glad I'm stuck down here. At least it'll keep me away from Christine until the wedding."

"What? What are you saying? Why would you ever want to get away from Christine?"

"Oh, don't get me wrong. I love her dearly, but she's been driving me out of my skull with this wedding business. Yesterday, she made me spend four hours picking out a wedding cake with her. And then, when I got hungry and ate up all the samples, she got all mad and stormed out. Then, the day before yesterday, she made me spend the whole day trying to help her choose a wedding dress. But when I kept telling her she looked beautiful in anything she wore, she started yelling at me to stop being so unspecific. And then--"

Erik pulled on the chain, dragging him over to the bed. "All right, all right, I get the freaking picture. Let's just go to sleep, and hopefully, we'll wake up to find that this was all just a really realistic nightmare."

"Okay." Raoul pulled off his jacket and shoes and crawled under the covers. "Hey, Erik?"

"What?" snapped Erik, turning off the mix tape and brushing some of the petals off the bed.

"I've got to ask you just one very important question. It's been weighing heavily on my mind ever since that fateful night when you had Christine and I trapped helplessly in your lair, then changed your mind and decided to let us leave unharmed."

"What?"

"Why is this bed shaped like a giant swan?"

"Huh?"

"I just don't get it. Christine and I made a couple of guesses, but we never could quite figure out what the reasoning behind it is."

"Well, I happen to think it's pretty."

"You may be a legendary mastermind with music, science, illusion and architecture, but evidently your genius doesn't extend to interior design. That thing's weird."

"Is not!" Erik defended.

"I'm afraid it is." Raoul leaned back against a pillow, glancing up into the giant pewter bird's face with a shudder. "Christine told me she nearly died of a heart attack that morning when she woke up with Big Bird here staring her in the face."

Erik sank down on the bed with a sigh. "If you must know, I didn't always have that cool gondola out there. Before I bought it, I used to have one of those little swan shaped boats. You know, the kind with the pedals that they rent out down at the duck park. When it broke, I decided to keep it around to use as a bed because it had sentimental value."

"Oh. What is it with you and sleeping in boats?" He gestured toward the ALW "boat-bed" anchored on lake just outside the window.

"I think I might have been a sailor or something in a previous life."

"Really? You and I should talk sometime. Ever thought of going to the North Pole?"

"Go to the North Pole, with all those chirpy, sickeningly cute little penguins around? Ugh. I'd rather lock myself into my own torture chamber."

"That's the South Pole, actually, and--"

"Shut up and go to sleep!" Erik wound up the monkey music box on the bedside table and pulled the covers up to his neck.

Raoul sat up in bed. "What are you doing? I can't sleep with that ugly thing clashing cymbals in my face all night."

"I fall asleep easier when I have some music. And stop calling Bob ugly!" He patted the monkey on the head. "He's just jealous, boy."

"Grrrrr…" Raoul flopped back down on the bed and shoved a pillow over his face.

Finally, the two of them managed to fall asleep, though Erik was intermittently wakened by Raoul's nightmare-induced screams of, "No, Chrissy, no! You can't make me wear a powder-blue tux!", and Raoul was occasionally awakened by Erik's moans of, "No, please, Ms. Khanum, you can torture me all you like, just don't make me cut my hair!"

Around four in the morning, Erik was shaken awake. "What now?" he growled.

"I have to go to the bathroom."

"Grrrrr…" Erik pulled himself out of bed and towed the vicomte to a set of doors down the hall. One was labeled with a female stick figure and the word, "Ladies". The other was labeled with a male stick figure in a hangman's noose and the word, "Victims".

Raoul looked from one door to the other hesitantly. "Well, you've done it again. Either way I choose, I cannot win."

_TBC..._


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Obviously, they never did get back to sleep that night. Going into detail would take to long, but suffice it to say that by the time the bathroom conflict had finally been resolved, there had been two explosions and a minor flood. Any-who, as you can imagine, cleaning up after all that made our boys pretty hungry. Well, actually, only Raoul was, but I'm sure Erik would have been hungry too, had he not been a lifelong anorexic.

They were also sweltering hot. Their habit of wearing expensive tuxedos every minute of every day was fine for smiting each other and wooing their ladylove, but for mopping up a flooded lair, it was entirely impractical. They had removed their cloaks, cravats, jackets, waistcoats, and shirts in an attempt to beat the heat. However, being handcuffed together, the last three had proven to be impossible. So, their unremovables were hanging by the sleeves and weighing down the handcuff chain. They were sweating profusely as they worked, bent over in exhaustion, and looked for all the world like they were auditioning for the "Work Song" scene in Les Miz.

When it was over and done with, they collapsed on the hallway floor next to each other, too tired to care if the slash authors saw them anymore. "Whew," sighed Raoul, fanning himself. "When I get home, first thing I'm going to do is see about getting our plumber a raise."

"No, first thing you'll have to do is get ready for your wedding." Erik reminded him a little bitterly.

"Oh, yeah. Ugh, I hate to think what Christine's planning right now. That nightmare tux she had picked out…" He shuddered. "By the time I get back, she'll probably have me wearing a pink disco suit with sequins all over it."

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to forbid you from saying words like 'pink' while you're a guest in my house," said Erik sternly.

"Deal. Hey, I'm hungry. Got anything to eat for breakfast around here?"

"Yeah, but I'm too tired to get up and get it right now," groaned Erik, burying his face in the carpet.

"Fine. I'm sure I can amuse myself until you work up the strength." And Raoul began to sing. Loudly.

__

Ten little speckled frogs

Sitting on some speckled logs

Eating the most delicious bugs

Yum! Yum!

One jumped into the pool

Where it was nice and cool

Then there were nine speckled frogs!

Nine little speckled frogs…

By the time he got down to the last little speckled frog, he was singing so loud that his strained voice had gotten all hoarse and off-key.

__

One jumped into the pool

Where it was nice and cool

Then there were no speckled frogs!

Erik breathed a sigh of relief and pulled his fingers out of his ears. It hadn't been easy, but as a master of torture, he had known he could hold out through all ten frogs if he tried hard enough.

But Raoul wasn't out of irritating baby songs yet…

__

Baby, you can't love two!

Baby you can't love two!

Can't love two and still be true

So I'm leaving on the midnight train

La dee da! Oh boy! What fun! Uh-huh! Woo-hoo!

Baby, you can't love three!

Baby, you can't love--

Erik clamped his free hand over the vicomte's mouth. "All right, all right! I'll give you anything you want! Just stop before you destroy my ability to love music!"

Raoul smirked victoriously.

They put the pieces of their tuxedos back on and Erik led Raoul to the kitchen, where he put a pan of macaroni and cheese on the stove to cook. Raoul looked curiously from the Phantom to the box. "You eat macaroni for breakfast?"

"Yes. You got a problem with that?" Erik challenged.

"It's just not very healthy. Let me at least fix us a vegetable to go with it." He began to fling open the cupboards, but to his surprise, every last one of them was crammed full of boxed macaroni and cheese. He peeked into the pantry, but it too was packed with macaroni. He opened the refrigerator. Macaroni. He pulled open the freezer, and several boxes of macaroni fell on his head. He stared at Erik, blinking dazedly.

The visible half of Erik's face blushed. "It's the only thing I know how to make, okay?" He spooned up two plates of macaroni and handed one to Raoul. "I'm an evil genius, I don't have a lot of time to cook."

"No big deal. I like macaroni too." He took a bite. "And it could be worse. All those rumors the ballet rats told me about you subsisting on rat's blood could have been true."

After they were finished eating, Erik suddenly let out a panicked yelp. Raoul frowned. "What's wrong?"

"I forgot to check in the basement for flood damage." He bolted toward the basement, yanking Raoul out of his chair and dragging the vicomte along behind him.

"Let me get this straight. Your lair in the basement of a basement of a basement of a basement of a basement has a basement?"

"Yes." He pushed open the door, revealing a mostly empty room.

"What's down here that's so bloody important?" Raoul wanted to know.

"This." Erik proudly pulled a sheet off a tall object in the middle of the room, revealing…Christine Daae? She was smiling cheerfully and standing as still as a statue.

Raoul approached her hesitantly. "Ch-Christine, is that you?"

"No!" Erik flipped a switch. "This is the Christytron 5000. She's totally persuadable. I built her so I could have something to practice my pick-up lines for Christine on. It's more effective than practicing in a mirror."

The robot suddenly sprang to life, her glassy blue eyes riveting themselves adoringly to Erik. "I love you so much Erik, please say you'll take me back! I just want to marry you and snuggle you until the day I die!"

Erik coughed awkwardly. Raoul raised an eyebrow. "You built a robot Christine that you can bend to your every whim?"

"I…uh…I…" Erik tugged nervously at his collar. "It was Nadir's idea!"

"It's a great idea!" the vicomte exclaimed delightedly. "I wish I'd thought of that." He circled the Christytron 5000, grinning. "Hey, Christine, I'm not wearing that thing to the wedding, and if you don't like it, tough! Try finding another gorgeous, rich nobleman who's willing to sacrifice his life for you!" He looked himself over. "Hm, I don't know if I sound authoritative enough for that statement to be effective. Maybe I should try swirling my cape the way you do."

"No, no, no. You've got those classic-blond-hero good looks. Make use of them! Try tossing your hair while you're talking. Here, let me…" He came closer to fix Raoul's hair, but was interrupted when the Christytron 5000 reached out, ripped his mask off, and started screaming.

Erik groaned. "I've tried for eight months and even hired scientists from NASA, and I still can't seem to work that bug out of her system."

Raoul's eyes lit up. "Hey, I know what you could do! Come with me…"

__

TBC…


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

When they woke up in the swan bed on Sunday morning, Erik and Raoul were in much better spirits. Spending an afternoon with the Christytron 5000, listening to her tell them what a couple of hunks they were, had cheered them up considerably.

Raoul blinked his eyes and yawned widely. "You know, Erik, I've got to admit, this bed may be bizarre, but it sure is comfortable."

"Yeah. As soon as I work up enough self-esteem to get rid of that coffin in my bedroom, I'm going to start sleeping in this thing every night." The opera ghost stretched languidly.

Raoul's eyes darkened. "I hate to think what I'll be sleeping in come Monday night. You should see the furniture Christine picked out for our bedroom. It's like a nightmare." He shuddered.

"You'll be sleeping in it with the only woman I ever loved, whom you stole out from under my nose," spat Erik. "Somehow, I can't muster up a whole lot of sympathy."

"Two words: Lavender lace."

"Oh my God! You poor boy!" Erik wrapped his free arm around the vicomte and patted him gently on the back. "You know, there's an easy solution to that little problem…"

Their eyes met, and both men simultaneously jumped out of bed, ran to the basement, and switched on the Christytron 5000. Raoul placed his face less than an inch from the robot's. "Ch-Ch-Christine, I'm n-not sleeping in this room…" he choked out hesitantly.

"Sure you're not dear," snickered the Christytron 5000.

"No, no!" Erik coached. "Say it like you mean it, Raoul!"

"Christine, I'm not sleeping in this hideous room," the vicomte ventured bravely. "It's entirely too feminine."

"Yeah, yeah." The Christytron 5000 waved a hand dismissively. "I've got problems of my own right now. My feet are riveted to the floor of a sixth-degree basement, and this stupid wedding dress my creator makes me wear has a tag in the collar that chafes my neck horribly."

"Again!" Erik prodded.

"_I am not sleeping in a room full of purple lace, Christine! I don't care what you and that tyrannical decorator of yours say! And stop cutting my meat up for me at dinner! It's humiliating_!" Raoul screamed.

"_And my name is **Erik**! E-R-I-K, Erik! So quit calling me Angel all the time_!" roared Erik. "People keep mixing me up with that character from RENT because of you!"

"HSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!" hissed Ayesha angrily, now sitting at her master's feet.

Erik and Raoul eyed her quizzically.

"Meow? Meow meow." Roughly translated, that means, "What? I was just trying to fit in.")

Nadir appeared in the doorway, his eyes shifting from Phantom to vicomte to kitten with a mixture of anxiety and amusement. "Er, am I interrupting something, here?"

"Oh, shut up, Nadir. And let go of that gun you're hiding in your pocket. There's no need for that sort of thing."

Nadir hesitantly released the gun. "Are you sure? Because having your rival for Christine's affections in your home must be stressful. And with that abominable temper of yours, this could easily erupt into violence…"

"No, Monsieur Persian, it's okay, really." Raoul held up their cuffed wrists for him to see. "See? His Punjabbing hand is incapacitated at the moment."

Nadir stared from Erik to Raoul, his eyes as wide as saucers.

Erik fidgeted awkwardly. "There's a very logical explanation for this, Nadir. You see, Raoul and I were reading lists of r--"

"No, no, you don't have to explain," Nadir cut him off, trying to stifle a laugh.

"Really!" Raoul insisted. "You see, I was trying to rescue--"

"No, I don't think I want to hear this."

"Nadir!" Erik shouted. "It's nothing strange! I was just kidnapping Christine again, when--"

"You kidnapped her _again_? After you promised me you wouldn't? How many times does that make now?"

Erik shrugged indifferently.

"I lost count at nineteen," said Raoul.

"All right, all right, continue."

"We'd better go sit down," said Erik. "It's kind of a long story."

"Let's get something to eat first. I'm hungry."

"Me too," Nadir concurred. "And after all the time I've spent hanging around with Erik, I've had enough macaroni and cheese to make me sick. Why don't I step out and grab us some pizza?"

"Yeah, with pepperoni!" Raoul agreed.

"I hate pepperoni," groaned Erik. "Get Canadian bacon instead."

"Yuck!"

"Hey, kid, I was generous enough to forgive you for taking away the love of my life, but mess with my pizza and I won't be responsible for my actions!"

Nadir whacked them each on the back of the head with one of Ayesha's cat toys. "I'll have no more bloodbaths! We're getting plain cheese!"

"Relax, Nadir, I no longer have any desire to kill the boy. Although I would like to kill the khanum for designing these handcuffs."

Nadir's eyes took on a haunted look. "You think these are bad? You ought to see the personal ads she wrote to try and win you over." He shuddered. "Some of them--"

"I don't want to know," Erik interjected.

Nadir stuck around long enough to hear the whole story about the cuffs, eat three slices of pizza, and play the winner of a game of checkers. But when he accidentally knocked the remote control to the Christytron 5000 into the lake, the phantom and the vicomte joined forces to chase him out of the lair, wielding a lasso and a slingshot full of marbles, respectively.

They were left alone for the rest of the day. It wasn't until they were about to get ready for bed that the doorbell rang again. Yes, that's right. The Phantom of the Opera had a doorbell. Just because most of his visitors were foreign cops and screaming mobs didn't excuse them from having the courtesy to ring the bell before barging in.

The door opened, and in walked Christine Daae, an old man in a toolbelt in tow. "Raoul? Erik? I'm sorry for leaving you the way I did. Are you home or--_WHA_?"

Imagine her surprise when she saw her abductor and her fiancé slouched on the couch, laughing, playing cards, and eating leftover macaroni. Of course, the biggest surprise was that there was now a second set of shackles chaining their ankles together. "_Raoul? Erik?"_

"Hey, Christine," Erik muttered, not looking up.

"Hey, Christine, just wait a second. I'm trying to cultivate a good poker face." Raoul plastered a humorless grimace to his face, then burst out laughing. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, let me try it again."

"You've got to completely numb your mind if you're going to be convincing. Try thinking of something really boring," Erik advised. "Like that 'Phantom of Manhattan' book."

"Raoul!" Christine cried. "What are you doing? Why did you cuff your feet together? Have you been teaching Erik that stupid 'Truth or Dare' game you were always trying to get me to play with you?"

"No, no." Raoul chuckled. "It's just that these past two days together, we've learned how to move in step with each other really well."

"After a lot of tripping and falling and screaming and hitting and…you get the picture," Erik interjected.

"So, we thought we might try entering ourselves in the regional three-legged race tomorrow," Raoul continued. "We were out spying on the competition, and if they're any example of what we're going to be up against, I think we could make it clear to the Olympics."

"Hah!" Erik mussed the vicomte's hair. "Good one, kid."

"Er…right. Well, I've been feeling guilty about abandoning the two of you the way I did, so I hunted down a twenty-four hour locksmith to get you out of those things." She ventured a small smile as the locksmith came forward and began to work the shackles on their hands and feet open. "I'm sorry for trying to force the two of you to get along with each other. Forgive me?"

"Sure, Christine," Raoul chirped cheerfully as the chains fell away from his limbs.

"Of course, dear," Erik agreed as they stood up, flexing his freed wrist.

"I'm glad to hear it." She grabbed her fiancé by the arm. "Come on, then, Raoul. You've got to get home and rest up for our wedding tomorrow. Oh, and since I probably won't see you before the wedding--I bought you a new hat to go with your tux. It's in the top of your closet. And don't make any excuses about not being able to find it. The patterns on it are very, _very _hard to miss, and--"

"Actually, dear, I don't think I'm going to be needing that hat," the vicomte interrupted.

"Wh-what?"

"You see," explained Erik, "you were right about this weekend. Raoul and I _have _become friends. He's really not so bad once you get to know him."

"Right back at ya, O.G." Raoul clapped the phantom on the back. "And being friends has changed things somewhat. You see, no decent man would marry his best friend's girl."

"So," Erik continued, "the only solution we could think of was for both of us to give you up. Now, if you'll excuse us, dear, we have a race to practice for." He bent over to pick up the ankle-chains, motioning for her to leave. "Ready, Raoul?"

Raoul secured the chains snugly around their ankles, took one last bite of macaroni, and nodded . "Come on, let's go practice on your old putting green. There's plenty of open space out there."

They began to hop out of the house, their outraged former ladylove trailing after them. "Oh no, no, no! I've spent weeks planning out my dream wedding and nobody's going to spoil it! I'm not leaving this batcave without a groom! One of you boys is marrying me, whether you like it or not! Erik! Raoul! Come back here!" She sighed disgustedly. "That's it. I've had as much of those two as I can take. Maybe it's time to re-think that proposal from Sir Percy Blakeney."

THE END


End file.
